


Mishaps

by Arya_Greenleaf



Series: Strange Sentence Starters [1]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Minor Sif/Thor (Marvel), Spell Failure, Teen Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is given a proposition: help Amora get Sif conveniently out of the way so that she might spend an evening on Thor's arm and by extension Loki might garner Thor's favor by coming to Sif's aid... all the while knowing just how to help since he would be the one to cause the trouble in the first place. It was a sound plan, both of them would get something they wanted and no one would be hurt in the process, if only slightly inconvenienced for having slept through a major royal gathering.</p>
<p>And everything would have gone exactly to plan had Thor not spoiled it all with his good will and distractions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mishaps

**Author's Note:**

> Thor and Loki are whatever the Asgardin equivalent of teenagers are here. All events take place very much prior to anything in the first movie.
> 
> In response to this prompt from [seamstress-in-training](http://seamstress-in-training.tumblr.com/) on tumblr:
> 
> _“Yes. I might have given you rabies. But in my defense, that’s ridiculous and I didn’t.”_

Frigga insisted that if Loki were to learn magic, he would learn about all kinds. To use it properly, she argued, he needed to understand all aspects of the art—not just have a firm grasp of anything particularly useful in his mischievous endeavors.

Not that Loki _didn’t_ use any and all of the magic he picked up to mischievous ends, even if it didn’t seem particularly magical or particularly useful with the aim of mischief making.

It was in this way that Thor, more than once, found himself in amusing and alarming predicaments.

Sometimes, Loki had help.

***

Loki lounged in the sun on the balcony off of the sitting room common to his and Thor’s chambers. The book propped against his knees had been in serious need of a good dusting, the cobwebs on the shelf of the library where he’d finally found it had nearly hidden it entirely. Loki spent a large part of the morning leafing through the pages, wondering at the illuminated text and the detailed drawings of flora and fauna that seemed only possible in dreams.

Loki looked up from the page he’d been trying to decipher—most of the text a jumble of obscure runic characters and a language he was still struggling toward proficiency with (really, thank the Norns for pictures)—when a shadow came over it, large and looming.

Thor was grinning and glistening, his face freckled from long hours on the training field in the sweltering sun. The Midgardians that they so often liked to walk among would call it _summer_ , but on Asgard there was not much variation in the weather from cycle to cycle. Thor folded himself down onto the smooth stone beside the low chaise Loki was settled on and craned his neck to see what Loki was reading while he unwove his thick rope of a braid.

“You missed training again, Brother.”

Loki shrugged and searched for his bookmark before answering. “Tyr insists on trying to get me to fight like you.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, no… Not in itself, it isn’t.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“He _knows_ that I am better suited to a blade or a bow. I will never be adept with a hammer or an axe—not like you. And yet, he _insists_ on trying to make me use them.”

Thor frowned, “Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I shouldn’t have to. He is supposed to be our teacher, he should be helping us excel _respectively_.” Loki closed his book and sat up straighter. “Besides,” he waggled his eyebrows and grinned in a way that always made Thor at least a little wary. “I’m getting better at projections. Maybe I won’t ever have to set a solid foot on a battlefield again.”

He flicked his wrist and with a flash of green-gold light a perfect copy of himself appeared near the wall of the balcony, leaning casually and looking out over the gardens below. Loki held his hand aloft and looked at the projected version of himself with all of his concentration. His fingers trembled very subtly with the effort. The copy stood up straight and turned toward them. The image flickered as it took a step closer and raised its hand to tuck a lock of hair behind its ear. Loki let out a whoosh of breath and dropped his hand. The copy fell apart in a cascade of glittering lights that bounced across the floor.

“See? I’m trying to make them solid.”

Thor raised his brow high in intrigue. “Can you project someone else?”

Loki chewed his bottom lip and swiped at the light sweat that had broken out over his brow with his sleeve. “I think so.”

He put his hand up and squinted at Thor, willing the projection to manifest. Thor jumped in surprise, a soft gasp escaping him when he turned to see himself sitting there cross-legged beside him. The copy stuck out its tongue in a teasing way before it fell apart.

“That’s incredible.”

Loki fell back heavily against the chaise, “That’s tiring.”

Thor grinned as he stood and offered Loki a hand to get up, “I have such a talented brother. How did I get so lucky?”

Loki snorted, “Talented? I’m glad someone other than Mother thinks so.”

Thor clapped him on the shoulder as they went through the doorway into their sitting room, “Don’t be so negative. Everyone _knows_ you’re talented. It’s just a matter of fact that they seem to be on the wrong side of those talents more often than not.” The two laughed in a way that only those in close confidence might. “I’ve got to wash up. Are you coming down to supper or are you spending the night studying again?”

Loki considered it, lips pursed. “I’ll come down. Can’t annoy Father too much in one week, can I?”

“No, you can’t. You do toe the line, though.”

Loki winked and turned toward his own rooms.

“I’ve invited Sif, tonight!”

Loki’s smile faded as he closed his door.

***

The following day, Loki took his reading with him when he ventured out of the palace with the express aim at avoiding Tyr’s attempts to lure him toward the training grounds. Thor, for his part, distracted their teacher, allowing Loki to slip by unnoticed.

It was quiet and cool near the water, under the shade of a thick canopy of trees with long loopy branches and leaves that swept the ground in a curtain. Loki settled down with his toes dipped just into the edge of the pond, the thick grass a suitable pillow, and his book held aloft with a bit of simple magic. Absorbed in the text in front of him, trying to translate the page in his head without referring to the notes he’d made in the little book tucked into his pocket, Loki didn’t hear it when someone approached through the trees behind him.

“And what are you doing hiding here, Loki?”

He gasped and the book dropped out of the air, hitting him square in the face. Amora laughed. Loki sat up and set the book aside, his hand on the cover, wary of her intentions. “What do _you_ want?”

Amora sank down beside him, her frothy skirts pooling around her legs. “The same thing you want.”

“And what’s that?”

“Thor’s undivided attention.”

“And yet you wonder why Karnilla refused to teach you any longer.”

Amora’s lip curled into a sneer, “Don’t pretend it isn’t true.”

“What, that you were too undisciplined for her?”

“If you don’t want to listen then I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

“What business?”

“Sif.”

“I thought this was about Thor? Change your mind? Prefer Sif instead now? I can guarantee she’ll be just as hard to grab as my brother is, but—“

“Do you _ever_ tire of hearing yourself speak?”

Loki grinned, “Not at all.”

Amora rolled her eyes and took what was likely a calming breath. “I want Sif out of the way.”

“For what?”

“The Solstice feast.”

“How romantic.”

“Are you interested or not?”

“And how does getting Sif out of the way for _you_ to spend the evening with my brother help _me_? How is this supposed to garner me his undivided attention?”

“If you’ll hold your silver tongue for just a second I can tell you.”

Amora’s plan was surprisingly solid and surprisingly didn’t involve harming anyone directly. She’d noticed Loki’s book, knew from her own studies that it held several basic draughts. She wanted to give one to Sif, something effective enough to keep her out of the way for the evening, something that Loki might offer help to counter when Sif was discovered in her induced slumber.

Amora would get her evening with Thor. Loki would win Thor’s favor for helping Sif.

Loki wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to participate. But as long as no one was really hurt…

“And why exactly do you need me?”

“I need you because it would look suspicious for me to slip through Yggdrasil or ask Heimdall for passage.”

“Passage to where?”

“Niðavellir.” Loki raised a brow. Thor was supposed to visit the Dwarves there before Solstice, a diplomatic visit. Loki was to stay at home—his last visit had not gone well. Arguments that he was significantly better at controlling his magic now than he was then fell on deaf ears. “The sleeping draught requires an herb that can only be found there.”

“Well you’re out of luck. I’m not going.” Loki hardly thought it necessary to hide the mortification on his face when Amora swatted him upside the head. He very carefully considered going straight to Frigga with Amora’s scheme for a fleeting moment.

“Do you think I don’t know that? _Thor_ is going. _He_ can get it.” She looked smug. “He’ll do anything for you and you know it. He’s wrapped around your spindly little finger.”

Loki pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. No one was allowed to take unfair advantage of Thor’s kindness.

No one but Loki.

Loki had yet to translate the page in the book that Amora referred to. He would have to work at it and make sure for himself that she wasn’t luring him into anything he might come to regret.

He put out his hand and waited for her to shake it.

***

In the days leading up to the visit before Solstice, Amora made herself scarce. While not exactly a noble, and not exactly welcome in the palace, she was certainly a fixture. Her absence, at least to Loki, rang out like a warning bell.

He’d made significant progress in translating the list of ingredients he’d need for the draught and the instructions thereafter. He’d begun to work through the simple spell he’d need to recite before it was drunk when he hit a dead end.

Loki ventured across the palace compound to the library to seek assistance. He could have gone to his mother or one of his many tutors for assistance, but one of them surely would have spoiled the game. Instead, he went to the ancient man who cared for the thousands of volumes in the archives. The old man had a soft spot for Loki, he wouldn’t hesitate to help and likely wouldn’t find anything amiss in regards to Loki’s questions. It wasn’t odd for Loki to be studying some obscure text or another and with a list of ingredients that included things that could not be found on Asgard it wasn’t likely that Loki would be using it.

“I’m having a problem with these lines here.”

“What kind of a problem? Pronunciation?”

“No, no, I think I’ve got the accent right. I’m just not entirely sure that I’ve translated it correctly. I’m not sure if this is part of the spell or a footnote.”

The old man squinted at the page and frowned. He looked at Loki for a long moment as if making a decision. Loki made himself look as casual and innocent as he possibly could, which wasn’t very for all of his effort. The old man nodded and pointed to Loki’s notes, “The problem is that you’ve translated the line before incorrectly.”

Loki frowned, “Oh.”

The old man laughed, “You can’t learn if you never make mistakes, little Loki.”

“I just don’t like to make them.”

“I’ve noticed.” The man picked up a nub of graphite from his desk and returned to where Loki was sitting. “Here, let me help. You see this character here?” Loki nodded, “Start over from there.”

Loki pursed his lips and began translating the text over once again. “There. It’s still nonsense.”

“Because you’re still wrong.” Loki’s nostrils flared in frustration and the old man rolled his eyes, motioning for Loki to move over on the bench so he might sit. “This—“ He crossed out a few lines of Loki’s work and scribbled in corrections above the lines. “See? Not nonsense any longer.”

“Yes it is, you’ve made it worse.” Loki raised a brow and the old man sighed.

“So impatient. One day, that is going to be your ruin.”

“What is it supposed to mean then?”

“It’s unclear.”

“Precisely.”

“No, it very literally means that _it is unclear_.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the draught is supposed to induce slumber, yes? Heavy, but not harmful—something medicinal, essentially.”

“Yes, and?”

“Loki, are you planning to take this draught yourself? Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Not at all. Just practicing translations. Studying.”

The old man nodded, “Good. Because the unclear part is what will happen if the draught is not prepared to very precise specifications.”

“What do you mean?”

“If it’s not made properly—or completely, I’d assume—it could have any number of effects.”

“Mortal?” Loki could feel his face blanch. He didn’t want to be responsible for Sif’s death. She annoyed him to no end—so serious all of the time, never playing his games, distracting Thor—but that didn’t mean he wanted her dead.

“No! No, certainly not. I don’t think so, else there would be some clear warning in the text. It’ll just make the drinker rather ill. It’s just that it seems to result in a different illness depending on what went wrong.”

“What kind of illness?”

He considered it for a moment, “Likely an upset stomach, sweats, perhaps a rash. None of these ingredients is particularly toxic on their own.”

“Oh. Well, all of that’s not so bad.”

“Perhaps for you, with your nice strong belly!” Loki couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated alarm on the old man’s face. He patted Loki on the head and rose from the bench, his knees crackling as he did. “Now off with you. If rumors are true, you should be out on the training grounds with Tyr, not hiding here.” Loki groaned and put his forehead down against the tabletop. “Oh stop. I shall call the guard to come collect you if you don’t hop to it.”

“I am a Prince of Asgard. You cannot speak to me that way.” Loki’s voice was muffled against the table.

“Go on now, little Loki.”

Loki put his cheek down on the table and glared at the old man for a beat before he got up, closed his book very purposefully, gathered up his notes, and marched out.

The next hour found Loki drenched in sweat and breathing hard. He took advantage of the brief break from sparring to knot his hair more securely at the back of his head and splash his face with water. It wasn’t refreshing in the least, warm from sitting in the sun. Loki had ever been a fan of the heat or the brightness of the current season. He wished Tyr would move their training indoors.

Loki gasped and cringed and arched away from the fresh bucket of cold water as Thor dumped it down his back. “You bilgesnipe!”

Thor laughed, holding his hand against his belly and doubling over the force of it. “You should see your face.”

“You’ll pay for that.”

“Oh, please, you feel better now, don’t you?” Loki narrowed his eyes at Thor. “You do. See? No reason to retaliate.”

Tyr shouted across the grounds for the two of them to get back to work and stop horsing around.

The brothers gave each other as good as they got, toiling in the sun at weapons and fisticuffs while Tyr hollered at them and threw obstacles in their paths. They were both glad for an end to the day’s training and the opportunity to retreat back into the coolness of their sitting room for a time before they were called down to supper.

Loki waited until their attendant was out the door to speak. “Thor.”

He was sprawled on his back in the cushioned area set into the floor across from where Loki sat. His bare chest was wet and shining, his hair sticking in escaped tendrils to the sides of his face and neck.

He didn’t respond.

“Thor.”

Nothing.

“ _Bro-oo-ther_.”

Thor cracked an eye open.

“I need your help.”

He sat up at that, awake and aware. “Oh?”

“You’re going to Niðavellir.”

“Yes?”

“I need something. For my studies. It only grows there.”

“And what incentive do I have to get this for you?”

“None, really.” Loki put his hand up and plucked the page he’d sketched the plant on—a few lines of description of the thing and where it might be found scrawled across the bottom of the page—neatly out of the air as it sailed in from his rooms on a wisp of green light. He floated the page over to Thor’s outstretched hand. “Just the love of your favorite brother.”

Loki grinned and Thor rolled his eyes.

“What is it for?”

Loki shrugged, “A sleeping draught.” Thor regarded him with concern and skepticism. “I’m having trouble, it’s nothing, truly—it’s this disgusting heat.”

“So instead of asking the healers for assistance, you’ve decided to make some potion with a plant that you cannot even find readily in your own home?”

Loki made a frustrated sound and made a move to get up. “Forget it.”

“No! No. You said it was for your studies, _Ki_ , I just—“

“Will you help me or not?”

“Of course I will. You know I’d do anything you asked of me, within reason, of course. I just…worry.”

“You’ve no need to worry, brother.” Loki smiled, soft and smooth with an upturn to one side of his mouth.

When the day arrived for Odin and Thor and their party of other Asgardian nobles and politicians to depart, Loki had a sense of foreboding rolling around in the bottom of his belly like a stone collecting moss, growing larger and larger.

Odin swept his arm through the air like he was physically pushing something away as he spoke to one of the Council members, “Would that _both_ of my sons have the ability to attend this meeting—“

Loki bristled as he listened. Frigga stood close by. She put her arm around Loki’s waist, her hand resting delicately on his hip. He knew the gesture was meant to be reassuring but he shrugged away regardless. Frigga sighed and stepped away, casting her radiant smile on a woman who approached her.

Thor sidled up to him, a sober kind of smile on his face. “You should be the one going, Loki.”

Loki raised a brow and folded his arms.

“You’re better at this than I am.”

“Yes, well, you will one day be king. You must get used to this kind of thing. Practice it.”

“But you will be at my side.” Thor looked at him soft and fond and clapped a hand down on his shoulder. “So why should I practice at diplomacy when I can just send _you_ to do the dirty work?”

Thor laughed, a full sound that came from his belly. Loki was all exasperation, wiping his hands down over his face and turning to walk away. He didn’t intend to see the party off, he had work to do.

“Loki! Loki, please, I’m sorry.” Thor stepped in his way, taking a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I won’t forget, you know.”

“Thank you.”

They were all due to return home the day before the Solstice feast. That morning, as Loki worked diligently over the sleeping draught, Amora appeared in his rooms as if out of thin air.

“You’re cutting it very close, Loki.”

“I am doing this right or not at all. Part of this recipe required fermenting.”

Amora lifted the goblet that held the half-finished draught and waved it under her nose. It smelled of honeyed wine, warm and sticky sweet with a sharp undertone.

“Will it be ready in time?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I—“

“Loki? Are you in here?” Thor’s voice rang out from the sitting room. “I come bearing gifts from Niðavellir!”

With a swirl of air that ruffled Loki’s hair and messed the papers on his worktable, Amora vanished.

“I hate when she does that.”

The door squeaked in its hinges as Thor came through, “You hate when who does what?”

Loki pushed back his hair and snatched a paper off the floor, “Ah, Mother, she—“

Thor put a hand up, “Say no more.” He chuckled and perched against the corner of the table. “She has been very _mothering_ lately, hasn’t she?”

Loki shrugged and tipped his chair back onto two legs, “So, what gifts have you brought me, brother dear?”

Thor placed a velvet pouch on the table in front of Loki. Whatever was inside was heavy for its size when Loki picked it up. He loosened the drawstring and shook whatever it was out into his palm. It was a stone of some kind with glittering veins running through it, patterned like some kind of small creature had been captured inside long ago.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“It’s lovely.” Loki couldn’t help but smile.

“And, I have something else.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” Thor pulled a rolled piece of cloth somewhere from within his traveling cloak and held it out to Loki. “That was harder to find than I thought it would be.”

Loki unrolled the cloth to find the plant that he needed hidden safely within. The leaves weren’t even bruised.

“And what do I owe you for this?”

“Nothing. I’m getting the love of my brother in return, remember?”

“If this was difficult to obtain, you must have some price.”

Thor considered it for a moment, stroking his chin like a villain. “Talk to Tyr.”

“Excuse me?”

“Talk to Tyr.”

“No.”

Thor reached out to take the cloth and its contents out of Loki’s hands, “Then you can’t have this.”

Loki twisted his body, keeping out of Thor’s long reach. “No, no! I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”

Thor smiled, “Good.” Loki didn’t notice it when Thor picked up the goblet. He was too absorbed in inspecting what he’d been gifted. “So, what ridiculous ensembles are we to wear this Solstice?” Thor made a pleased sound as he took a sip from the goblet. “Have you snuck into the feasting supplies already?” He looked down into the goblet and inhaled the scent.

Loki turned toward him, mildly annoyed. “What are—no!” He knocked the goblet from Thor’s hand, the golden liquid inside splashing across the stone floor as the vessel made a loud clatter.

“What in Nine Realms is wrong with you, Loki?” Thor looked cross for a moment. His face blanched, making his sun-freckles stand out in starker contrast. He swayed as he stood up straight and caught himself, gripping the edge of the table. “What?” A sickly green hue flushed through Thor’s cheek and down his neck. “Ki?”

“Thor? Thor!” Loki caught him as he swayed, lowering him down onto the floor at a much gentler speed than falling would have promised. Thor’s eyes rolled back. Loki smacked his cheek, soft but harsh enough to rouse. “Thor. _Thor_ wake up. Thor!” Loki stood, spinning in place. A wave of his hand pushed the unfinished draught back into the goblet. Loki placed it back onto the table and shuffled his papers, hiding the plant beneath them. He knelt down again, shaking Thor’s shoulders. His eyes rolled and fluttered and struggled to focus on Loki’s face. “There you are, c’mon, you’re okay. Just… stay here, yes? I shall get help.”

Possibilities and consequences raced through Loki’s head as he sprinted through the halls. Normally bustling with activity at all hours, the residential wing of the palace was quiet and deserted with all of the staff allocated toward other duties to prepare for the impeding feast.

He could run to his mother, beg help and forgiveness.

He could go to the healers, claim ignorance of the cause of Thor’s sudden illness and allow the Soul Forge to do its job.

No matter what, his intentions would be called into question. He did not know if Thor had made it known that he was acquiring ingredients for a draught for Loki on his travels. He did not know if Thor had expressed his concerns to anyone else. He did not know if Amora would show her face and complicate things further.

“Little Loki, why so alarmed?”

Loki whirled around to see the old man who tended the library standing in the hall, a bundle of rolled parchments in his arms. Loki opened and closed his mouth like a fish in need of water.

“Child, what have you done?”

“I—I—I don’t know. It’s Thor, he—“

“Show me.”

Loki nodded and raced back along the corridor, panic rising in his chest at the old man’s slow pace. Loki knelt beside Thor when he reached his chambers once again. A sweat had broken out on his brother’s brow and Thor’s palms had become bright red and splotchy and hot.

The old man’s knees creaked and cracked as he knelt as well. He pulled up Thor’s eyelids and leaned down to press his ear to Thor’s chest.

Thor’s breath rasped and rattled like a dying man on the battlefield.

“Can you help or not?!”

“What have you done?”

Loki let out a frustrated sound, “I didn’t do anything! He just _drank it_! He didn’t even bother to ask! He can be so utterly blockheaded—“ Loki could hear the panic rising in his voice.

“The sleeping draught? The one you were not going to make? The one you were simply using to practice translating?”

“I—“

“You foolish child.” The old man uncurled Loki’s fingers from the handful of Thor’s travelling cloak that he had not even realized he’d been gripping with surprising force. “Go fetch a healer at once.”

“But you _said_ it wouldn’t be harmful, you—“

“Just because he will not likely die does not mean that he needn’t be tended to. Now _go_.”

Loki’s face flushed with angry heat, the urge to retaliate for the insolence with which he was spoken to and the urge to obey equally strong. He blinked rapidly, fat tears rolling down over his sharp cheeks, and got to his feet, stumbling and tripping as he sprinted out the door and toward the healing rooms.

Hours later, Thor still wasn’t looking any better. Loki thought that half the problem might be the eerie lighting in the healing rooms and the swirling, quivering shadows they cast over Thor’s face.

He’d accepted a sound scolding from Odin, another from Frigga.

“It is my fault. I am truly sorry. I did not mean to harm anyone. I just wanted to see if I could do it.”

“And how did you mean to test it?” Their mother’s voice was low and calm, more frightening than if she’d been noticeably furious.

“I meant to take it myself.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Your practical studies are suspended. Histories only.”

“But, Mother—“

“Don’t argue with me, Loki.” She stood and leaned over Thor, stroking his feverish face gently. “And you will not attend the Solstice feast.”

Loki clenched his jaw and pursed his lips but didn’t protest.

When Sif visited, he cleared the room, unable to face the person who the draught had truly been intended for. Loki paced the halls for a few minutes before retreating out onto the balcony of that wing. He felt as if he could just concentrate all of his energies on correcting the problem, all of his power—as fledgling as he woefully was—that Thor would simply get up out of bed and be fine.

“So?” Amora’s voice was smooth and sweet behind him. “Am I going to get my evening with heir apparent?” Loki turned stiffly, his eyes narrowed. “What in Nine Realms is wrong with you? You look like you’ve just been shut out of Valhalla.”

Loki struggled to keep his voice steady, “You.”

“Yes, me. Glorious me. Now tell me what’s gone wrong? What have you mucked up?”

“You were hoping that I’d get it wrong, weren’t you? You wanted me to get it wrong. You didn’t just want Sif to sleep the Solstice away so you could spend a night dancing with Thor and drinking from his cup. You wanted her hurt, ill, whatever.”

Amora rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“I may not… _like_ Sif. I might not appreciate her presence here.” Loki stepped close to Amora, nearly nose to nose. “But she is Thor’s intended, just short of some official proclamation. He cares for her.” His lip curled into a sneer. “And that I cannot disregard. I will not play your games, _Enchantress._ Get out of my sight.”

“Poor Loki. Look at you, trying to play prince and protector. Your silver tongue doesn’t work on me. You cannot frighten me.” She paused, studying his face at close range. “You didn’t give it to her, did you?”

“No, I never had the chance. Thor drank it before it was completed.”

“You dolt.”

“If you are wise you will hold your tongue and get far away from this palace.”

Amora practically growled as she turned on her heel and disappeared.

***

The Solstice feast had come and gone, hangovers and food-induced lethargy lifted and guests departed, by the time Thor’s fever broke and he climbed up out of the slumber the heat had pushed him down into.

Loki wasn’t sure if his ears were playing tricks, having dozed briefly in his chair at Thor’s bedside. He sat bolt upright and waited with bated breath to hear it again.

Thor swallowed dryly and spoke, his voice hoarse from disuse and his lips dry. “I thought we agreed there was no need for retaliation.”

“What?” Loki was incredulous. He helped Thor sit up in bed, long since moved to his own bedchamber in the hopes that familiar comforts would speed his recovery, and helped him hold a cup of cool water in trembling hands.

“For dumping that bucket on you.”

“You—I—“

“And after I brought you a gift from my travels as well.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’ve made me miss the whole feast, haven’t you?”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Loki crossed his arms haughtily. “You did that to yourself.”

“Was it not something from _your_ cup that I drank?”

“And haven’t you learned not to drink or eat anything I have lying about while I’ve got a book of magic open?”

“Perhaps you should learn to not leave things lying about then.”

“Perhaps you should not snatch up every scrap you see like an excitable dog.”

“And excitable dog?” Thor’s brow shot up toward his hairline. He began to laugh, winced, gulped down some more water, and continued.

Loki could not help but laugh as well.

The quieted. Loki stared down at his hands, full of shame for a moment. “Are you mad?”

Thor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He ran his fingers through his hair, combing it back. “No. It was my own fault.”

Loki smiled half-heartedly and nodded in agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> [To send me a prompt or make a request, drop me an ask on tumblr.](http://onheil-ferguson.tumblr.com/ask)


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